Growth
by Hiasobi
Summary: Strange what a little height can change. [ taller, stronger, older] HitsuHina.


Request done for **chitsuki **on livejournal.  
Requirements: HitsuHina, involving a kiss.

Growth

Hinamori doesn't know when Hitsugaya had gotten taller than her. It was like it just happened over night.

It seemed like she had always been the one looking after and looking over him, figuratively and physically. It was just the way things had always been.

She knows it's been a long time since she had looked after him like she used to back in the streets of Rokungai, fixing wounds he tried to hide _(he was strong so he didn't get hurt) _and wiping tears that he denied were there_ (he was a boy so he did not cry)._

And it's been a long time since she had been the one looking over him; he was a taichou _(when -?)_ to her fukutaichou status. He was the one looking over reports and assigning duties while she _(when did it happen?)_ was one of those who carried them out.

Then one day they're both bent over a report outside when she suddenly realizes that the shadow blocking the sunlight from above her; is his. And she goes stock still at the realization and the other thoughts it brings.

Toushirou is taller now. Toushirou is older now. Toushirou is mature. Toushirou is now a boy-who-is-almost-a-man.

Where had she been when all this was happening?

And she feels like the wind has been knocked out of her, like someone took a sledgehammer and drove it into her gut unexpectedly. She feels a tidal wave of emotions and long waited epiphanies crashing down on her.

Toushirou is strong. Toushirou is powerful. Toushirou is grown up. Toushirou is a man not a boy. Toushirou has grown up.

" Hinamori?" His voice comes from above her and she turns to look at him dazedly.

Toushirou doesn't need looking after anymore.

" Hinamori?"

He is worried but she can't she can't -

Toushirou doesn't need her anymore.

And it's in her eyes. In the dawning light behind the glazed shocked that she stares with at him. And he knows.

Quickly, without even looking around to see if anyone was around, he pulls her into an alleyway. In the half formed shadows of the day and the warm light streaming down, he blocks her way out with an arm by her left and stops her escape by the arm on her right. Her back is against the wall and he stands in front, report forgotten as the scroll rolls to a stop on the ground by their feet.

Her hands are shaking as she raises them in front of her and she looks _(up)_ into his bright emerald eyes.

" Shiro-chan." She breathes and he sucks in a breath.

She has never, never given up the habit of addressing him by that name. Through their days of Rokungai of when it had came into existence, during the times when he had most brilliantly been promoted to taichou, and the years its been since he served.

She has always, always called him that. No matter how many times he had complained or told her to stop or to address him as 'Hitsugaya-taichou', she has always instinctively called him that before anything else. In the forefront of her mind, his image will always first be _Shiro-chan_ before any other title.

He's always seen it as a degradation of his status, structure, and age. He'd always be that small, whiny, annoying, exasperating _boy_ that followed her by the kimono sleeves and shouted petulantly to not come back.

But this time he watches the dawning light behind her bright eyes, he _understands_.

She stares at him like she doesn't know what to expect of him any more. She's looking at him like she doesn't know him at all. She soaks in the very image of him for the first time without his younger self super-imposed on top _(high cheekbones, harder jaw, thinner face, and deep eyes – such deeper eyes than she remembers and they stare at her they stare they stare)_ and she almost cries.

' Shiro-chan.' She had said. But this time – this time it wasn't because he was younger and he was familiar and he was a boy.

' Shiro-_chan._' She said, as opposed to _san, taichou,_ or even _kun_.

' _Shiro_-chan.' From Toushirou and instead of Hitsugaya.

And for the first time she's not looking at him like she used to back in the days of Rokungai: of an older sister looking after a younger brother, of a mentor looking over a student. This time she's not looking down at him like a boy, but looking _up_ to him like he's a man.

And he scarcely breathes. He's (_waited, wanted_) dreamed of this for so long, he almost can't believe it's finally here.

On an ordinary day.

Over an ordinary report.

But tremblingly he lifts a hand from the wall and moves it to her cheek, at the same time shifting forward so she could not escape (_this, him_). And slowly, slowly, like how one approaches a frightened animal (_she's scared, confused)_ he bends down.

" Momo." He whispers.

His eyes are gentle, liquid, and they stare into hers and tell her not to be afraid. She gives off one small whimper before she closes her eyes – surrenders.

Slowly. Gently. Softly.

Tender and thorough.

Toushirou claims her. He's been waiting for this for so long and he's not going to take any more chances.

" Toushirou." She breathes into him as her arms reach up and wrap around his neck.

He pulls her closer and he'll never think of the name the same way again because it's like she breathing fire_ (life)_ into him. And no matter how strong his bankai becomes, no ice inside of him could ever freeze over these flames.

_. : end : ._


End file.
